


Feel Like Myself

by kryptamazon (thefutureisequalaf)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe – BDSM, Butt Plugs, Clothed Dom Nude Sub, Dom Kara Danvers, F/F, Gentleness, Glove Kink, Handcuffs, Hot Tub Sex, Kneeling, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Naked Cuddling, Nipple Clamps, Secret Relationship, Sub Lena Luthor, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26049343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefutureisequalaf/pseuds/kryptamazon
Summary: Lena Luthor loves her work, but, as a Submissive, being CEO is taxing for her. After a long week of being in control, she needs to submit in order to decompress and recharge.Good thing she's got Kara waiting for her at home.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 41
Kudos: 388
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	Feel Like Myself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



“Ooh, Jess, is that a new collar? It’s lovely.”

“Thank you, Miss Arias.” Lena’s young assistant smiles, bashful but with dreamy eyes, and touches the narrow band of thin white leather around her neck. “My dominant proposed last night.”

Sam lights up with excitement. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you.”

Lena smirks at Sam. “She’s shifting in her chair more than usual today, too. Wonder why that could be.”

Jess blushes scarlet and looks away, but her smile only grows. “Your meeting, Miss Luthor.”

Lena chuckles, though she’s glad Jess isn’t watching her. It’s getting harder to conceal her envy at her assistant's public display of submission. “I'll be expecting a request for generous honeymoon leave, Jess.”

“Thank you, Miss Luthor.”

Lena heads for the conference room, Sam keeping pace at her side. She sighs as soon as they’re out of Jess’s earshot. 

“We have an hour meeting,” Sam murmurs, “most of which we'll spend listening to a presentation. You don’t have to be in charge for a while. Take a break.”

“I don’t want a break,” Lena grumbles under her breath. “I want to wear my collar without my family disowning and assassinating me.” The remembered sensations of Kara’s power around her neck, soft and snug and ever-present, make Lena’s chest ache with longing.

“I know,” Sam says gently, “but you’re about to get a break, so make the most of it, and then push through the last hours until the weekend.”

* * *

Two slides into the presentation, Lena clenches her jaw and curls her hand into a fist on the conference table. She’s had the most draining week she can remember, has hardly felt Kara’s domination in days, and now a man is reading a slideshow aloud to her.

It’s ridiculous: reading bullet points word for word, adding nothing. Apparently no one told him that slides are meant to _aid_ a presentation, not _be_ the presentation. If everything's on the slides, they should’ve sent her a report instead of scheduling a meeting. Let her read it herself, not make her sit through it. This is a massive waste of everyone’s time.

But the thought of putting her foot down yet again, of sharpening her voice even one more time, rasps like sandpaper on Lena’s weary nerves. Words she once heard at a leadership conference return to her: for submissives, being a chief executive can feel as taxing as a week of day-long house parties could be for an introvert. They may enjoy themselves for a while, but there’s a limit.

Today, Lena’s found her limit. Most weeks she feels some submissive burnout by Friday afternoon—nothing Kara can’t fix—but this week she’s been completing a hostile takeover while also running a sting on her xenocidal, dom-supremacist mother and brother. She’s been 'on' all day, every day, either in full corporate cutthroat mode or else wearing the façade that’s kept Lillian from disowning her for being a sub. And thanks to an all-night DEO emergency, Lena hasn’t had her hair pulled in nearly forty hours, nor enjoyed even the simple ritual of Kara choosing her lingerie for the day. She’d kill to not have to tell this presenter to stop wasting her time.

She’d kill to have Kara pin her down and make her beg for mercy.

The presenter doesn’t notice Lena’s clenched fist, but Sam does. Sam, hand-picked CFO, friend, and one of the few people who knows Lena’s submissive orientation, gives her boss a sympathetic look, then tips her head towards the conference room door and lifts an eyebrow.

Lena nearly sighs in relief. She never defers to dominants at work, but Sam's developed a sense for when and how to shift little burdens from her boss's shoulders to her own. Lena gives her a small nod.

Sam looks square at the presenter. “We can read,” she says, not loud but pointed, interrupting him mid-bullet. He and the others at the conference table stiffen in shock.

Lena’s fists and jaw unclench. With the confrontation already started, she doesn’t feel much strain from asserting authority when she asks, “Is everything you plan to say written on those slides?” She gets a blank look and a nod in reply. “Email them to the principals and me. If we have questions after we’ve read them, we’ll ask.” She caps her pen and closes her notebook

Sam takes the cue and stands, and Lena is only too glad to do the same. The head of the presenter’s department is sputtering, looking at her like she’s betrayed him, and she has zero patience left. “I have a business to run.” It’s all she can do not to snap at him. “When you ask for an hour of my time, it'd better be for something I can’t do myself.” Three more strides and she’s out of the room.

Sam walks with her to her office. “I’ll follow up,” Sam assures her. “Make sure they know how to impress you next time.”

“Thank you.” The presenter had looked like a kicked puppy as they’d left. It wasn’t her fault that he didn’t know how to give a presentation, but it also wasn’t his fault that his managers didn’t know better, either. “I don’t want my own employees resenting me.”

“They don’t.” Sam stops before they reach Lena’s desk. “Lena, you’ve been CEO for more than two years now. People here believe in you. They know you’re not like Lex and Lillian. Thanks to you, L-Corp is doing better, and doing more good, than it ever did under Lex or Lionel. That’s all that matters to your employees. Or to anyone, really, besides your stepmother.”

The words draw a soft smile from Lena. “I know.”

“Good.” Sam’s answering smile fades into a look of concern. “Lena, listen. I’m worried about you. You came in on Monday looking a little strained already, you’ve been away and unavailable for hours each day, and you’ve been working even later than usual to compensate. Now you’re so burned-out that you dread having to stand up for yourself. That’s not healthy, Lena.”

Lena looks away, goes and leans against the front of her desk. What can she tell Sam? Health can wait until Lex is in solitary? “It’s not that bad—”

“Don’t lie to yourself. It is at least that bad.” Sam softens her voice. “Lena, please. Is it something with Kara? Are you not getting what you—”

“No.” This time, Lena has no trouble interrupting. “Kara’s amazing. It’s just the late nights, Sam. We’re hardly getting any time together before I have to crash in bed.”

Sam sighs, shuts her eyes, puts her hands on her hips. “Am I right in thinking that if you want me to know what you’ve been doing away from L-Corp this week, you’ll tell me yourself?”

“Correct.” Sam doesn’t need to know that she’s playing double-agent with Lex and Lillian: collaborating on their plots, but reporting daily to the DEO through Kara. Lena would’ve thought her relatives would know better; she ran this same con when Lillian tried to use the Medusa virus. 

Maybe they were all playing each other. It’d be in-character.

Another sigh from Sam. “Well, you’ll get some quality time under Kara this weekend.”

“I think so.” Crises permitting.

Sam’s eyes flash. “You _think_ so?”

“Yes. Our schedules…”

“She’s a reporter for Catco! How can she be busy outside of _your_ work hours?”

 _Because she’s Superdomme_ , Lena wishes she could say. She wishes she could let her guard completely down at game nights, where Sam is the only one who doesn’t know Kara’s secret. She wishes she could tell Ruby that she’s already friends with her idol. She wishes she could fall asleep every night and awake every morning in the arms of the woman who’s both of her heroes. But she can’t.

Not when Lex and Lillian think Kara’s lying to her.

Lena’s knowledge of Superdomme’s identity is a better-kept secret than the identity itself. Kara and Alex; no one else knows. No one else is going to know. Not until Lex is put down for good.

So Lena swallows and gives her friend the most honest answer she can think of. “I promise that Kara and I are doing our absolute best to care for each other.”

Sam nods. “I’ve never seen you happier or healthier than when you’re with her.”

“I’ve never been happier or healthier, present circumstances not withstanding.”

“How long will those last?”

“As long as it takes.”

Sam makes a face, disapproving and admiring all at once. She offers a hug, and Lena accepts. “You take care, Lena. You’re too important to burn yourself out.”

Lena forces a smirk. “I agree.”

With her fingers on the door handle, Sam pauses and looks back. “You still have almost the whole hour we scheduled for that meeting. Ask Kara to come take care of you. Catco’s only a few minutes’ walk from here.”

“Not a day goes by without wishing I could.”

“Why can’t you?”

Lena jerks her thumb at her office’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

Sam frowns at them. “No one's going to see way up here.”

“A Luthor might. All it would take is a drone with a telescope.”

“There’s smart glass now,” Sam says. “You could have frosted windows at the flip of a switch.”

“I could also put up a curtain with ‘I’m hiding something’ printed on it.”

Sam nods, slowly. “Just take care of yourself.”

“I will. Am,” Lena amends herself. “I promise.”

Once she’s alone, Lena sinks into her chair and checks her phone. There’s a text from Kara; it must’ve arrived just after Lena silenced her phone for the meeting.

_K: Tell me how you’re feeling._

A tingle runs down Lena’s spine. Just the bare fact that Kara’s commanding instead of asking makes Lena itch to feel more. She hurriedly types a reply: _Frayed as hell._ As soon as it’s sent, she regrets not adding ‘Mistress’; it would’ve invited Kara to be more dominant. Usually Kara doesn’t want to distract her too much at work—

The phone lights up with Kara’s name and portrait. Lena’s never been so glad for her office’s anti-eavesdropping tech. “Yes, Mistress?”

“Lena.” Kara sounds so concerned it hurts. Protocol is clearly far from her mind. “Do you have time to talk?”

“I do now.”

“Did something happen?”

“No. I had a meeting scheduled for this hour, but they weren’t prepared. I… walked out.”

“Was that difficult?”

Lena heaves a sigh. “Sam helped.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s there for you.”

“Yeah.”

“Lena,” Kara says more quietly, “I’m really sorry for not checking in last night, and for not picking your lingerie for today.”

Lena bites her lip. She doesn’t want to make Kara feel bad, but their morning ritual—Lena sending a picture of three sets of bras and panties, Kara telling her which to wear, and Lena sending a photo of herself wearing them—is no small thing. It lets Lena begin each day with an act of submission, and gives her a tangible reminder of Kara’s dominance. To be without that today, and then step off the elevator and see her assistant’s engagement collar… it’d stung. “Alex messaged me,” Lena says tentatively, “to say that you’d been out all night.”

“She told me. We got back to the DEO a little before five in the morning, and then I just crashed in a bunk. She had to drag me out of bed and make me go to work. I wanted to call you sooner, but I knew you were still finishing that takeover.”

And Lena had told Kara not to distract her during business negotiations. She nods to herself, swallows. “Kara… please let me hear you say it was something important.”

“What we did last night? Lena, we took down an alien trafficking ring. We rescued about forty aliens last night, and Alex seized the ring’s ledgers intact, so the DEO is tracking down several hundred more that’d been sold already.”

“Thank you.” Lena lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I’m… glad,” she says simply.

When Lena adds nothing, Kara asks, “So, you have the rest of the hour to yourself?”

“Yes.”

Kara pauses. “I can’t wait to take down Lex.”

“I’m doing everything I can to make that happen.”

“I know.” Kara’s voice warms. “You’re such a good girl, Lena.”

The burden on Lena’s shoulders suddenly feels a pound lighter. “I can’t begin to tell you how badly I needed that.”

Kara chuckles. “I can’t wait to fuck you on your desk till it breaks.”

“Not until you’ve made me kneel under it and eat you out, I hope.”

“You know me.” Lena swears she can hear Kara grinning. “That sleek CEO chair of yours? That’s gonna be _my_ chair. If you’re good, I’ll let you sit in it when I’m not using it.”

Lena’s speechless with relief. The thought of it not being her chair, her desk, even though it’s still her company… “Please,” she whispers.

“I promise, Lena. You deserve it.”

 _“You_ deserve it.”

“We both deserve it.” Lena can hear the pleasure in Kara’s voice, and her strain eases a little further. “Since that meeting’s cancelled, will you be home earlier tonight?”

Reality returns. “Kara, I…” Lena sets her elbow on her chair arm and leans her head into it, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “There’s so much.” She almost wishes that she’d given Kara permission to order her to leave for the day. They both know it wouldn’t work—Kara might misjudge Lena’s need to stay, and that would put Lena in a bind—but it’d be nice to not have a choice right now.

“There always is, Lena. I—”

Lena sighs. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Kara’s voice is so firm it sends chills down Lena’s spine. “Lena, there is always more to do. You will never be done, and I love that about you, but you need to discipline yourself to stop and rest.”

“I know. I’ve been getting better at it.”

“I’ve noticed.” Kara’s smile comes through in her voice. “I’m proud of you, Lena.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Lena rubs her nose again. “It’s going to be harder for a while, until Lex…”

“I’m with you, Lena. Take care of yourself, and tell me if you need anything particular tonight.”

Lena sighs heavily. “Just take me down hard.”

“Don’t you worry, darling.” Kara’s voice lightens. “But you tell me if anything changes.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s my good girl. I love you, Lena.”

“I love you, too, Kara.”

* * *

The lights in Lena’s office are the only ones still glowing from L-Corp’s windows when she at last closes her laptop and rests her head in her hands. She tells herself, again, that she had to work late. Friday night or not, her company needed her time. It was a service to her employees, to the people her products will help, to her own values.

Framing her work that way helps with the burnout, to a point. There’s only so much that self-talk can accomplish when the words she’s speaking to others are laced with power and authority. There is no way to submissively carry out a hostile takeover.

That didn’t stop her from pulling it off anyway. It’s never stopped her: she can coax and push and coerce as well as any dominant. More than that, Sam’s right: she’s doing greater things with her L-Corp than her family ever did with LuthorCorp.

But for all that she’s good at it, for all that she likes it, being in charge drains her. She needs to submit in order to rest and rebalance. Kara Zor-El has been a godsend: understanding, caring, supportive, and a domme. Kara always seemed to know just when to touch her, and just _how_ to touch her, to make Lena feel like everything would be okay. On trying days in the office, the thought of Kara forcing her to her knees is all that keeps Lena going.

What’s killing her this week is that she dares not enjoy that thought around Lex and Lillian.

Lena would never have had her chance to be CEO of L-Corp if Lillian had thought she was a sub. Luthors are dominants, or so they tell themselves. Luthors impose, command, rule. Lena’s lost count of the times she’s lain with her head in Kara’s lap and Kara’s fingers in her hair, healing the wounds of growing up in a family which believes submission is shameful. Now she’s back in close contact with that family, getting evidence to put Lillian and Lex away for good, and the plan will fall apart if they doubt she’s a domme. Lena spends every moment in their presence on her absolute highest guard, every cell in her brain working at maximum capacity to maintain her façade. Every expression, every shift of her eyes, hands, and weight, every word and syllable judged in better-than-real-time against her own internal polygraph. Five hours today of life-or-death improv acting, graded pass-fail in the present but with results withheld until the future. Two hours yesterday. Seven the day before that. Four and three Monday and Tuesday. Nine over the weekend. She’s never felt this exhausted in her life.

It takes all of her remaining willpower to resist calling Kara and asking for a bridal-carry flight home.

Lena knows she can’t risk it. She may be collaborating with Lillian and Lex, but she doubts they’re being much more truthful with her than she is with them. At least one of them is probably keeping her under surveillance. Lena’s not about to show them that she’s as close with Superdomme as she is with Kara Danvers.

So no matter how much she wants to melt in Kryptonian arms right this second, Lena’s going to get up from her desk, put on her coat, and let her driver take her home.

* * *

Kara’s in Lena’s living room already, clad in the black leather of her Superdomme suit, lounging on one of the white leather couches with her back to the armrest. She’s facing the penthouse entrance, but her eyes are on the book in her gloved hands. With one powerful leg stretched out on the cushions, the other bent to help support the book, and her expression soft with the serenity of a mind lost in a good story, she’s the sweet, approachable domme next door—but the body-hugging black suit and Superdomme’s signature long, braided whip, coiled on the nearby coffee table, exude all the wicked allure of the mistress your mother warned you about. 

But Lena’s too worn to enjoy the view, or wonder why Kara’s not wearing her usual at-home clothes. She shrugs out of her coat and exchanges it with the wine-red velvet collar hanging on her coat rack. For once, she’s irritated that she and Kara have only two standing rules. She knows it’s sensible—unforeseen circumstances, never make a sub need to disobey, better to understand what pleases your partner and adapt each day—but she’s about to obey both rules, and that’s just not enough submission; two drops of water in a thirsty throat, when what she wants is to throw herself into a waterfall.

Kara still hasn’t made a sound. Damn her, can’t she see what a wreck her sub is? Can’t she hear with her Super ears? Lena exhales through clenched teeth as she lifts her hair off her neck and dons her collar. Her tired eyelids flutter as the familiar brush of snug velvet gives her another taste of relief, but it’s all too brief. She sinks heavily to her knees. And waits.

It’s only a moment before fresh bitterness surges through her. She should’ve thought a moment longer before kneeling, because rule one is that she must wear her collar when in private with Kara, and rule two is that when Lena’s wearing her collar and kneeling for Kara, she may not rise from her knees without permission. She could’ve walked to her living room first, knelt in front of the couch so that Kara couldn’t ignore her—but no, she just _had_ to submit right away, and now she’s got nothing else to do for her mistress. She’s stuck here.

The penthouse is silent. Kara hasn’t moved a muscle on that damned couch, save to turn to the next page of her book. Lena boils on her knees. Her worn-out nerves and the stresses of her week swirl in her mind until she can feel the frustration all the way out to the fingers clasped at her back and the toes curling in her shoes. She knows she could ask to get up, and Kara would surely let her—but Kara should know how badly she needs to submit tonight. They talked about this, for fuck’s sake. Superdomme or not, Lena’s not going to give Kara the satisfaction of hearing her ask, or of making her safeword just for a goddamn hug—

 _Make me safeword to get a hug?_ The thought—the realization that she’d _had_ that thought—is a bucket of ice-cold water to the face. She and Kara had agreed at the beginning that Kara would never intentionally push Lena so far, with sex or pain or anything else, that Lena needed to safeword. Some people liked playing that way, but Kara was ambivalent, and Lena was dead against it. There’s no way, absolutely none, that Kara’s intent right now is to cause Lena more distress than she can take. Lena feels a tug of shame for thinking so, but it’s quickly replaced by concern for her own well-being. Sam was right: this is not healthy. She is not okay. She needs to take deep breaths and calm herself. She needs to remind herself that Kara loves her.

She needs to be on her knees.

So Lena waits. 

And waits. 

Lena’s not looking—with her anger gone, she feels too spent to lift her eyes from the floor—but she knows her mistress still hasn’t shifted on the couch. A new worry flickers through her mind— _she’s displeased with me_ —but experience reminds her that when Mistress Kara disapproves, she says so. If Kara’s still on the couch, still reading her novel, then Kara is pleased to have her beloved sub kneeling quietly. Kara’s pleased with her. Lena bathes in the thought like it’s a hot spring.

“Strip.”

Kara’s voice, carrying from the living room, is calm and firm: everything Lena needs right now. Lena looks up as she unbuttons her blouse; Kara hasn’t moved a muscle, though as more buttons come undone, she notices Kara’s eyes peeking coyly over the top of her book. Lena can imagine the playful smile growing on her mistress’s face, the never-truly-concealed affection, the pleased approval just waiting for an excuse to spill out as praise.

Lena doesn’t want it. Not tonight. After the week she’s had, acting and lying and asserting herself non-stop, she doesn’t want to be liked. She wants to be put in her place. Forcefully.

She speeds up her disrobing, pulling her blouse off her arms and dropping it in a heap, tugging her skirt down gracelessly, shifting to sit so she can kick it and her heels off. Dumps her bra on the floor and gets back onto her knees. She knows she’s expected to fold her clothes neatly, and there’s absolutely no excuse for leaving her panties on. She hopes Kara will rip them off and gag her with them.

Kara turns a page and keeps reading.

For a moment, Lena is stunned—and then she feels put in her place even more profoundly than she’d wanted. Why did she ever think she could manipulate her mistress? Tease her when they were both feeling playful, yes, but blatantly disobey to make Kara discipline her? She knows better than to think that could ever work. She doesn’t want it to ever work, not really. She wants Kara to be in control. Needs it more than anything tonight. If Kara wants to enjoy darting glances at her while she kneels collared and naked in the foyer, then Lena will submit and please her mistress.

Lena’s stress begins to ease. She lets her eyes slip closed, not wanting to distract Kara with her gaze, and slips her panties down her thighs, rocks left and then right to get them past her knees, sets them neatly aside. She remembers her discarded clothing, reaches for her blouse.

“Good girl.”

At the gentle satisfaction in Kara’s voice, Lena shivers so powerfully that her fingertips miss the hem of her blouse. She hasn’t even started folding her clothes, yet Kara’s praising her. It makes her heart melt.

How much of this had Kara anticipated? Surely enough that she’d chosen to wear her hero suit. Kara must’ve intended to look imposing at first sight, and just aloof enough that Lena wouldn’t ask for the treatment she’d thought she wanted. And to promise Lena a good time, once she settled into clear-headed submission.

When her clothes are folded and stacked at her side, and her shoes are placed neatly beneath the coat rack, Lena settles back on her heels, clasps her hands behind her, closes her eyes. Waits. Breathes.

Smiles.

* * *

“Come here.”

Lena opens her eyes. Kara’s sitting up on the couch, both feet on the floor, book set aside. Lena stands and walks to her, pacing her steps the way her mistress likes best. She’s full of gratitude for being made to wait and reset her thoughts. Worn down as she is, the harshness she’d wanted could’ve been bad for her. She might’ve started feeling like she deserved it, or that Kara believed she did. Now Lena’s ready to smile back at her mistress.

Before Lena can kneel at Kara’s feet, Kara pats the couch on either side of her leather-clad legs. “Here.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Lena smiles as she kneels astride Kara’s lap.

“Do you need to touch me?”

“Yes.” Lena knows that she never needs permission to touch her girlfriend—Kara was the one seeking permission, probably to handcuff her—but she still waits. She wants to feel Kara touch her first.

“Sit in my lap.” Kara helps Lena unfold her legs and cross them behind her, then hugs her nude sub tight against her body. Lena wraps her arms around Kara’s broad Kryptonian back and clings to the black leather suit like her life depends on it. “You’re home, my sweet slave.” It’s what Lena’s soul's been crying out for all day. Her lungs fill with the scent of Kara’s blonde hair, the borders of Kara’s crest brushing her bare breasts with each breath she takes. “You’re safe.” Kara slides a gloved hand up Lena’s back to her head, making Lena sigh at the caress of leather on her skin, and lets down Lena’s high ponytail. “You’ve done so well all week,” she murmurs, stroking through Lena’s waves of brunette hair, “been so strong and so brave. I’m so proud of you, my good girl.”

 _“Kara.”_ It’s a prayer as much as anything else. The simple submission of being loved like this, naked and needy in the arms of someone who is neither of those, feels like healing. Lena knows Kara would undress in the blink of an eye for her, if she needed to feel Kara’s skin against her own, but there’s a deep, quiet bliss in the experience of Kara choosing to be unequal, of Kara not owing her the intimacy of her skin. Kara has the power to keep that soft, supple leather between them, and thereby enjoy Lena’s body without sharing her own.

Lena could weep from how good her girlfriend’s power feels.

“You’re so good, Lena. I’m so proud of you for finding your way back to submission while you knelt for me.”

“You helped,” Lena mumbles.

“Take the credit, slave.”

Lena smiles to herself. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good girl.” Lena feels Kara draw in a deep, satisfied breath. When she lets it out, she eases back from the embrace, and Lena does the same. Kara is misty-eyed but smiling wide. One of her gloved hands settles between Lena’s shoulder blades, her forearm supporting Lena’s back, while the other lifts to Lena’s face and cups her cheek. Lena nuzzles into the smell and softness of the leather, sighing contentedly at the caress of Kara’s thumb. Kara smiles at her, then tilts Lena’s head and brings their lips together.

Kara kisses her like she knows her lips are perfect. Solar-powered Kryptonian invulnerability keeps them always soft, never dry, their fullness warmed from within by the raw heat of Kara’s power. Cradled astride her mistress’s lap, Lena feels herself pulled under and swept away by a current of warm breath and wet movement. _This is the best kiss you could possibly receive tonight,_ Kara seems to be saying. _Enjoy it like it deserves._ Lena doesn’t return the kiss so much as submit to it, her mouth moving as Kara’s permits and requires. She can feel the curl of satisfaction in her mistress’s lips as she melts, crumbles, moans.

“Good girl,” Kara whispers, the tickle of her breath making Lena’s eyelids flutter. She presses their mouths together again, gentler this time, her glove on Lena’s back sliding up to her neck as the other drifts down from Lena’s cheek to her shoulder. Her kiss is humbler now, more encouraging than compelling, and when her tongue swipes and probes at Lena’s lips, Lena feels right meeting it with her own. She feels right running her hands over the sleek leather of Kara’s Superdomme suit, from her back to her shoulders and down her arms. Kara chuckles into the kiss as Lena squeezes her biceps, flexes them and smiles when Lena gasps and grips tighter. Her hands roam Lena’s back and sides, gloves supple against Lena’s bare skin, and Lena pulls herself flush against her mistress.

Kara holds her so, so tight.

When Lena at last rests her forehead against Kara’s, content simply to be and to breathe and stare into her girlfriend’s eyes, Kara’s gloved hand cups her cheek again. “I love you,” Lena says, hearing her words aloud almost before she’s thought them.

“And I love you, Lena.” Kara smiles, strokes with her thumbs on Lena’s cheek and back. “I love you, no matter whether you’re happy, or stressed, or tired, or moody, or what. I love you when you’re obeying me like a champ, and I love you when you’re throwing a mini-tantrum two steps inside the door.” There’s no reprimand in her voice, no judgement, no disapproval at all. “I love you, and when I say that I won’t tolerate that behavior in you, I mean it for your sake.”

“I know, Mistress.” Lena’s voice is small, but she doesn’t look down or away. “Thank you.”

Kara’s smile widens. “For?”

“For wanting the best for me.” Lena bites her lip. She feels silly, dwelling on her earlier transgression, but Kara deserves to hear her gratitude. “And for making me deal with my frustration myself.”

“If I’d put you down like you wanted,” Kara says mildly, “you wouldn’t learn to take care of your own mind.”

“No, Mistress.” Lena knows it’s true. “Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome.” She presses a brief kiss to the corner of Lena’s lips. “Now, be a good slave and tell me what was hurting you.”

Lena notices traces of strain around Kara’s eyes, too. She wants to ask, to check in—to be there for _her_ , for gods’ sake—but her mistress gave her an order. There’ll be time to care for Kara later. In the morning, probably, with how tired Lena feels. “I…” she has to clear her throat. “I never thought it would be this hard.”

“What in particular?”

Lena shakes her head against Kara’s gloved hand. “All of it. It’s… it takes _everything_ I have, every single second that I’m around Lex or Lillian, to guard against giving the slightest sign that I know who Superdomme is. And to act like I wish I did know.” Lena swallows. “And like I’m not a sub.”

Kara’s blue eyes go soft with caring, so achingly soft that Lena feels she could weep just looking at them.

“I can’t relax at all with them, Mistress,” she tells Kara. “If I so much as look like I’m having a submissive thought, they’ll turn on me. When I’m alone at work, I can think about you, and take comfort in imagining how you’ll make me feel when I get home. I can’t do that around Lex and Lillian. I have to pass for a dominant from the moment they see me until the moment I leave.” Lena lets out a shuddering sigh, then sets her jaw. “And I knew it would be hard, but I’ve been doing it most of my life. I shouldn’t be such a wreck just from a week of doing what I know needs to be done.” She’s digging her fingers into Kara’s back and clenching her eyes shut by the time she finishes speaking.

“Why shouldn’t you be?”

Lena’s eyes snap open, and her voice snaps, too. “I’m Lena Luthor.” But opening her eyes reminds her who she’s talking to, and she cringes. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

Kara’s thumb strokes her cheek. “I forgive you.”

Lena sighs and lets eyes and shoulders sag. “I’m not having a good day.”

“No, you’re not.” The fondness in Kara’s voice makes Lena look up again. “Lena, you hit your limit. I’ve always been amazed at how much you accomplish, and that includes before I knew you were a sub.”

Lena smirks a little. “Which was, what, two hours between interviewing me and hearing my pulse race when you pulled me from that helicopter?”

Kara laughs lightly and guides Lena to rest forehead-to-forehead. Lena realizes that Kara’s giving her some slack on talking back, since she’s already spent the whole day watching her words. Not that Kara ever truly takes it seriously; normally, a line like that would get Lena a playful warning about what Mistress does with naughty girls, and a playful punishment if Lena persisted. But Lena’s in no shape for that tonight, and Kara knows it. “Listen, Lena. I don’t know another sub who could’ve made it through even half of this week. You are so strong.” Lena’s gaze falls. “Look at me,” Kara orders. “You are so strong, Lena. What you’re feeling now isn’t weakness. It’s fatigue. Everyone feels fatigue, no matter how strong they are. Yes, this week sucked. It was miserable for me, too. I hated not having time to dominate you in the evenings. By the time I left Catco today, I was gritting my teeth to keep from yelling at Snapper.” Kara swallows, sighs. “I did yell at James. I still need to apologize. But Lena, we will get through this. Now we know what too much stress looks and feels like. You won’t stay at work so late next week.”

Kara’s words aren’t an order, but a fact. Lena nods. “I won’t. I’ll give us at least an hour, even if…” Even though she means it, she still has to force herself to say it: “Even when it means some things won’t get done.”

“And Lena”—Kara’s fierce now—“We will get Lex and Lillian. We will put them behind bars for—”

“I don’t want—” But Lena cuts herself off. She’s snapping again, and even if it’s understandable, Kara deserves better. “I’m sorry. Right now all I can want is to feel like myself.” And to be herself in public.

Kara nods slowly. “Do you still think the solution is for me to grind your face into the dirt?”

Embarrassment heats Lena’s cheeks. “No, Mistress.”

“Good. Having your brains fucked out is something to enjoy when you’re happy, Lena, not something that will make you happy.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Lena takes a deep breath, tries to set those words deep in her mind. “I’ll do my best to remember next time.”

Kara nods. “And we,” she says, “will both do our best to keep you from having a next time.”

“Yes. Thank you, Mistress.” She doesn’t want to bring up her longing to be Kara’s in public. It’s not fair to burden Kara with emotions that can’t be resolved anyway until—

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Lena shuts her eyes. She doesn't want to talk about it, but in truth she’s glad that it’s no longer up to her. Their relationship, this dance of dominance and submission, lives or dies by their openness and honesty. Obeying Kara’s order now will make it easier to volunteer the truth next time. “I’d gotten used to Jess's little black choker, so that seeing it usually didn’t remind me about…” She gulps against a lump in her throat. “But today…” Lena sighs and gazes into her girlfriend’s eyes. “Kara, she came in wearing an engagement collar.”

In the blink of an eye, Kara’s undoes the hidden zippers which attach her gloves to her suit’s sleeves. “Lena…” She hugs her girlfriend close against her, her bare hands warm and firm on Lena’s bare skin. “ _Rao_ , I’m…” Lena feels Kara swallow. “I’m realizing that we haven’t really discussed what we’ll do once you’re safe from Lex.”

“I’d sort of assumed…”

“But we’ve never said, Lena. That matters. Talking about it makes it more real.” Kara pauses, takes her lower lip between her teeth. “Will that actually be helpful? Or would it make it harder for you when you’re in public?”

Lena sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Lena.” Kara brings a hand to Lena’s neck, traces a single fingertip along the edge of the velvet collar. “I want to fly by your office and see my collar around your neck as you work. I will do everything in my power to make what I want a reality. I want you as my sub for life. I daydream about the moment when I’ll get down on one knee for you, and how you’ll look when you say ‘yes’ and sink to your knees so I can put our engagement collar around your neck.” Kara’s warm palm and strong fingers wrap around Lena’s throat and grip. “I’m gonna mark the fuck out of you,” she growls, starting at her sub’s neck. “Everyone in National City will know that Lena Luthor is a sub—and _my_ sub.”

Lena’s eyes are wide, her lungs frozen and breathless. _“Please—”_

Kara seals her mouth over Lena’s like it’s her property. Her kiss is relentless, and Lena’s head is buzzing before her mistress lets her breathe. Kara grins as she watches Lena return to Earth. “Still jealous of Jess?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Kara relaxes, smirks, reaches for her gloves and pulls them back on. “And now, Lena Luthor, tell me what I need to know before I dominate you tonight.”

Lena casts her eyes down, silently grateful that Kara didn’t phrase it as a question. Craving domination as she is, and still feeling the rush from Kara’s passionate kiss, she’d be tempted talk herself into looser limits than her tired mind can handle. Being ordered to tell Kara what she needs to know, as opposed to being asked _what_ she needs to know, makes Lena feel like the ‘what’ is already settled. It helps her push aside her impulses and be honest. “I don’t think I can enjoy you withholding anything completely.”

“Be specific,” Kara admonishes, “and use your words.”

“I don’t…” Lena needs a moment to recall that ‘please don’t’ is their code for temporary limits. It reminds her of their other safewords, too, which Kara must’ve intended. “Mistress, please don’t arouse me if you aren’t going to make me come.”

“Good slave,” Kara murmurs. “I won’t. Anything else?”

“Please don’t do much impact play, Mistress. And please don’t make me control myself for you. Including standing. Or keeping still.”

“I won’t. I wouldn’t, with you like this.” When Lena adds nothing more, Kara slides her hand up Lena’s neck and into the roots of her hair. She gives Lena a moment to anticipate, to feel relieved and grateful and loved, then curls her fingers into a fist, making a fierce grip in Lena’s hair. “You still don’t feel like yourself, Lena?” She asks, calm and sounding all the more potent because of it.

Lena gasps in pain and delight. “N-not quite, Mistress.”

The fist in Lena’s hair presses her head forward until her ear is beside Kara’s mouth. “You will when I’m done with you.”

* * *

Lena watches her penthouse’s halls pass by as Kara’s strong Kryptonian arms bear her to her fitness room. The air inside is warm and wet already. “I started the hot tub when I heard you in the elevator,” Kara tells her.

“You’re an angel,” Lena murmurs into Kara’s neck.

Kara laughs, light and soft. “Thank you. You’re a treasure, Lena.”

“Your treasure.”

“All mine.”

Lena hears Kara’s feet step into the water, feels herself sink as Kara sits slowly, dissolves in the tub's blissful embrace as heat envelops her hips, her heels, her waist, her legs, her breasts…

“Lift your hair up, honey.”

Lena sweeps up her loose hair and piles it atop her head. Kara sets her all the way down on the hot tub’s bench-like ledge, and Lena groans aloud as the wonderful, lapping heat of the water covers her to her neck.

“I’ve got it.” Kara’s gloved fingers brush Lena’s and collect her hair. While Kara secures it in a quick bun, Lena relaxes into the tub’s warmth and takes in her penthouse’s view of National City’s night lights. Her pool room’s floor-to-ceiling window is even longer than the one in her office. Here, however, the glass is treated to block infrared light, the room’s lights are all turned off, and it’s pitch black outside, moonless and overcast. Not even a Luthor could see Kara dominate her now.

And when Kara slips a blindfold over Lena’s eyes, neither can she.

A chain rattles from the darkness beyond the blindfold, and Lena’s pulse picks up. Cuffs? Nipple clamps? Kara chuckles lightly—her and her super-hearing. “Give me your wrists.” Lena offers them, and feels the wide, soft padding of her favorite cuffs close sung around them. “Now I’m going to move you.”

Hands grasp Lena’s hips and lift her a few inches off the tub’s bench, turn her, move her, set her down on her knees. Lena can tell by the curve of the tub floor that she’s facing a wall, in the part of the tub where there’s a wide gap in the bench. One of Kara’s hands holds her shoulder still with a tight grip while the other runs firmly down her back. “Don’t. Move.” Then the hands vanish, and Lena hears and feels the water splash as Kara steps away. Kara seems to be moving things around, comes close enough at one point to be putting things on the tub edge in front of Lena. There’s a rush of water when Kara climbs out of the tub, then the soft padding of wet feet across the floor towards the room’s door and out into the hall.

Lena waits on her knees, enjoying the blindfold-heightened sensuality of the hot water. She’s far beyond impatience now. When Kara’s footsteps return, Lena’s not even tempted to turn her head. She’s content to wait while her mistress finishes her preparations on the tub’s edge.

A water jet comes on directly between Lena’s legs.

She can’t help but shudder, and hastily finds the hot tub edge with her cuffed hands. She manages to brace herself before her legs shift. The water pressure is… not actually too much—she’s gotten off like this before—but right now her body is in no mood for it. She hopes Kara doesn’t notice that she’s now sitting two inches lower on her knees, but she’d rather have the jet rumble against her mons than on her clit right now.

In her surprise, Lena misses the sound of her mistress stepping into the tub, and she jumps when oil-slick gloves grip her shoulders. She nearly buckles when Kara starts massaging.

Lena hopes Mistress won’t be too gentle.

She's not. The heavy oil, or perhaps lube, makes Kara's gloves slide effortlessly on Lena’s skin, no friction at all from the leather, and that sensuous ease gives Kara the liberty to put force into her hands. She works Lena's back like she’s disassembling it, pressing deep into every muscle, rubbing hard so that Lena’s compelled to go limp to remain comfortable. Lena groans and surrenders herself to the wondrous intensity of Kara’s touch.

“Lena,” Kara says calmly, “you have been doing so, so well this week. I’m not surprised that you’re worn down. What you’re doing is really hard.” Her thumbs dig deep into the knots in Lena’s shoulders. “I don’t know if I could do what you’re doing. But we’re a team, domme and sub, and we help take care of each other when it’s hard to take care of ourselves.”

Lena’s head is lolling back against Kara’s when she realizes that Kara’s lower back massage is also guiding her sex closer to the path of the water jet.

“What we both need to remember, Lena, is that it can’t be perfect every day. Even when everything with Lex is over, there’ll be times when you come home burnt out from forcing authority, and I’ll be out battling a crisis as Superdomme. There’ll be days when my nerves are frayed from being a polite subordinate to Cat or Snapper or James, and to be safe I have to start smaller and slower than you want.”

“I remember a couple evenings like that,” Lena admits. She’s absolutely boneless in Kara’s hands.

“We both need to learn to take better care of ourselves,” Kara says. “You were afraid of word getting out that you were a sub, and I was afraid people would learn I was an alien. We’re behind the relationship learning curve.”

“I know.”

“But we’re learning together now.” Lena nods in agreement; they’ve come a long way in a year as partners. “You’ll learn to not get so frazzled, and to better recover when you do. I’m learning what your mind needs when you get like this. Same for you with me.”

Kara's hands gentle and slow on Lena's back, making longer, lighter strokes. Lena sighs with pleasure; those leather gloves feel divine as they run up and down her skin. She didn’t want gentleness before, but now that Kara’s massaged her into submission, Lena welcomes the sensuality of soft caresses. She can enjoy being pampered, as long as she feels like Kara’s in charge. The gently rumbling flow from the jet feels increasingly welcome on her labia, too; she sighs and rolls her hips, seeking more, and senses Kara smile behind her.

“There’s my good sub,” Kara murmurs. Her gloved hands slip around to Lena’s breasts, cradle them, palm them, tug nipples between knuckles. If leather on her back was divine, then Kara’s gloved hands on her breasts is paradise. She feels so claimed, so _owned,_ as Kara touches without touching, plays with Lena’s body without sharing her own. Every grip of that leather, every brush of it against her nipples, speaks straight into Lena’s soul that she’s not her own. She’s Kara’s, and it makes her moan just as much as the pleasure of Kara’s touch.

Kara presses into Lena from behind, and Lena can feel the suit’s crest against her skin. She wishes for a moment that it could leave an imprint, a permanent mark to show who she belongs to. “Good slave,” Kara purrs, “my good, sweet slave. All mine, and enjoying it so much…”

One of Kara’s hands slides down, down over Lena’s smooth stomach, down until fingers curl past her mound and brush her opening. Lena’s breath hitches as they skim the sides of her hood, then turns shallow as Kara caresses down and up beside the full length of her labia. It’s definitely lube on her gloves, since the leather still feels perfectly slick as Kara teases her underwater—and _fuck_ do the gloves heighten it all. Lena’s heady awareness that Kara can and is touching her without sharing her own skin intensifies when those smooth leather fingers push inside Lena’s sex. It feels like Kara’s taking Lena’s pleasure instead of giving it to her, like Lena’s sexuality is her mistress’s toy instead of her own birthright. It feels like being _used_ , in the best, most delicious way. She’s stark naked, collared, blind, and helpless, and all she can do is _feel Kara_.

If she could lose herself in dominance like this every night, Lena would be happy ruling the world.

Kara purrs in her ear, and it makes Lena shudder from head to toe in the hot water. “You daydreamed today about me making you beg for mercy, didn’t you, baby.” It’s not a question.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s what you like, isn’t it,” Kara continues, indulgent and knowing. “You like it when Mistress gets you all nice and desperate, all worked up inside, and then you let all your cute little ‘pleases’ come pouring out. Would you like that right now, baby?” Her sweet tone carries a taunting edge. “Would you like me to tease you until you beg me to let you come?”

 _“Yes,_ Mistress.”

“Aww, then that’s too bad, baby, because what _I_ want is to gag you…” Kara’s voice drops. “So that you _can’t_ beg.” Her gloved fingers keep stroking through Lena’s labia, never speeding up or slowing down. “You’ve been in control all week,” Kara continues, husky and warm in Lena’s ear, “telling other people what to do. Not now, Lena. Not with me tonight. You don’t get a say in how I make you come, or how many times, or how hard. What you get is to be a good little pet for your mistress.”

Lena whimpers in dismay even as her mind sinks deeper into submission. A part of her, one that’s thankfully distant at the moment, knows that Kara knows she’s too weary for marathon sex. But the rest of her is enthralled by Kara’s theater, swooning at her apparent powerlessness to influence her mistress. Kara’s going to do whatever she wants between Lena’s legs, however she wants, for however long as she wants, and Lena has no choice but to submit while Mistress uses her body.

Kara kisses behind Lena’s ear and pulls her hands away. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Open your mouth.”

When cloth bumps Lena’s parted lips, she’s instantly thankful that Kara hasn’t chosen a ball gag. She wouldn’t enjoy one tonight: too solid, and too much drool potential. The soft, knotted cloth that Kara ties around her head is perfect; she feels muffled, she can’t make words, and she gets to relax her jaw against the gentle firmness of the knot in her mouth. She sighs her appreciation and leans her head back against Kara.

“Good, love,” Kara coos softly, “enjoy being mine.” Her hands embrace Lena from behind, and Lena feels Kara turn them both around. Kara sits on the tub bench, settles her back against the wall, and helps Lena recline comfortably in her lap—not that Lena needs any help to be comfortable. Handcuffed cuddling is the closest thing she has to a guilty pleasure.

By her movements, Kara’s getting some of those things she placed on the edge of the hot tub. Lena knows better than to strain her ears; a side benefit of Kara’s super-hearing is that she’s become super-skilled at keeping quiet. She could be lubing up a strap-on right now, and Lena would never know.

Lena smiles into her gag when she feels Kara spread her labia with gloved fingers and probe between them with something firm. It’s a vibrator, she’s sure—when Kara wants to thrust, she doesn’t use her hands—and a thick one, pressing pleasantly in all the right places. The brush of rabbit ears alongside her clit makes her tingle with anticipation. Kara reaches for something else, then hooks her feet—gods, she’s still in her boots—inside Lena’s ankles and pulls her legs wide apart.

Something hard and smooth nuzzles between Lena’s glutes.

She recognizes the plug immediately: glass, with a bulb a little larger than an egg, shaped so that it tends to press against anything filling her sex. Lena’s body is slow to let it inside, but Kara is patient, and they both sigh when Lena’s last resistance yields. Her core clenches around the plug, and the body of the vibrator _really_ presses against the right place. There’s an intense orgasm in her future.

“And one more thing.” A chain tinkles lightly; Lena’s breath hitches in anticipation before two clamps grip her nipples. It’s a thrilling pinch, firm but not truly painful, impossible to ignore.

Kara reaches down with one hand and clicks the vibrator on. Lena coos, smiling as pleasure radiates from her filled, thrumming core. Kara’s arm around her waist is the icing on the cake.

She almost doesn’t hear the papery sounds of her mistress opening a book.

“Be a good slave,” Kara murmurs.

Not so long ago, not having Kara’s full attention terrified Lena. It meant Kara wasn’t interested, or that she wasn’t good enough for Kara, or that something was wrong between them. Even now, the thought that Kara went to all this trouble to fill her up and cuddle in a hot tub, just so she could read a book and ignore her, sparks feelings of resentment in Lena’s head.

But Kara’s hand caresses up and down her side, and Lena’s mind slides back into the place it’d found when she knelt in the foyer. Kara’s happy with what’s happening. Her dominant, her mistress, is in control of their pleasure. Powerless as she is, Lena doesn’t need to perform for her mistress. She doesn’t need to accomplish anything, can’t fail anything. Kara will see to her own pleasure, using her sub however she’s inspired to, and Lena’s only responsibility is to submit. Submit and relax and enjoy, immersed in enrapturing heat. Kara’s muscled torso feels deliciously firm through the leather against her back. The strong arm around her feels just right. The quiet sounds of Kara’s breathing and the water lapping against the walls of the hot tub are all Lena needs. Well, all except…

She hears Kara turn a page one-handed, feels fingers drift idly down her stomach. Sighs into her gag as Kara’s touch brushes her labia. A fingertip teases Lena’s clit between the thrumming ears of the vibrator. Lena gasps and arches a little. She hears a gentle laugh, feels lips press a kiss to her scalp. “Good slave,” Kara murmurs. Her fingertip starts stroking; the added movement, and the raw reality that it’s _Kara’s_ touch, makes Lena moan. Kara continues, sends her sub higher, tighter, closer. Lena rocks and writhes against Kara, awash in heat inside and out, nipples pinched and core filled and vibrator rubbing firmly against her g-spot with every shift and twitch…

Kara stills her finger and turns a page. Lena keens, groans, tries to wriggle against her mistress’s fingertip, but Kara’s palm presses down on her pelvis and keeps her still as stone. Kara’s touch is still there, resting on Lena’s clit, humming faintly from contact with the vibrator ears but no longer enough to push her over the edge. Everything is silent but for the hum of the hot tub and Kara’s soft breathing. Lena whimpers into her knotted gag, aching and needing and so, so glad that Kara preempted her begging, and waits.

Paper crackles as Kara turns another page. Lena’s hyperaware of the fingertip between her legs, the warm circulation of the water, the points of Kara’s nipples against her shoulders. She waits.

Kara turns another page, and Lena gives up on waiting. To wait is to focus on what she wants from her mistress, and that’s backwards. Waiting isn’t submission; surrender and obedience are.

Deep, deep in Lena’s chest, a hidden knot of tension lets go. She sighs into her gag with dismay and relief together: dismay because she’s giving up hope of orgasming soon; relief because she finally feels content. She’d thought she was completely relaxed, but now the last tendrils of her stress dissolve, her head and neck and shoulders going slack against her mistress’s body. By her ear, Kara lets out a faint hum of satisfaction. Her hand relaxes it’s press on Lena’s pelvis, but doesn’t move.

Lena hears her mistress turn a page. It doesn’t matter. The water is wonderful, and she’s safe in Kara’s arms. The thrumming vibrator, the stationary finger: they’re welcome because they’re Kara’s, even when they’re not making her come.

Another page.

Another.

Warm breath tickles her ear. “Do you feel like yourself, Lena?”

Lena hums contentedly into her gag.

“Good.” Kara sounds just as content as Lena feels. There’s a rustle of paper, then a quiet thump which might be Kara setting her book beside the hot tub. Kara takes in a deep breath, making her suit’s crest press against Lena’s back, and embraces Lena with her free arm. “Very, very good.” Her lips press kisses to Lena’s ear, temple, scalp. “You deserve to, Lena.” Her fingers find Lena’s clamp-sensitized nipple, and the brunette’s breath hitches. “You deserve to feel as good as you possibly can.”

The fingertip on Lena’s clit begins moving, gently at first, then more insistently. Lena sighs with happiness, moans with desire, eagerly rolls her hips into her mistress’s touch.

“Good girl, Lena.” Kara’s mouth feels like it’s permanently latched onto Lena’s ear. Lena abandons herself, blind, gagged, and along for the ride as her body responds to her mistress’s touch: nibbling her earlobe, kneading her breast, teasing her nipple, working her clit. It’s paradise.

Even if Kara edges her again, it’s paradise.

“Be a good slave,” Kara says, “and come all you want for me.”

Lena’s never been happier to submit.

* * *

The gag is first to go, just before Lena’s third orgasm. “The better to hear you moan,” Kara says. As Lena’s pleasure returns to a low, coiling simmer, gloved hands remove her blindfold. Lena’s almost disappointed to have her sight distract her from feeling the smooth, grippy leather against her skin, but Kara’s fingers find the chain between her nipple clamps and apply such exquisitely painful tension that Lena can’t seem to mind anything at all.

When Kara finally turns off the vibrator, Lena’s spent, with no idea of time and no count of her orgasms. That’s not saying as much as it typically does, given how tired Lena was to begin with, but it makes no difference to how content she feels in her mistress’s arms.

Kara eases Lena out of her lap and onto the tub’s bench, then sits back, removes her boots, and peels off her own suit. She pauses for a moment with it half-off, looking like she hasn’t thought something through, then shrugs, pulls it the rest of the way down her legs, and lets it drift in the water. She gives Lena a silly grin. “Needs to be washed anyway.”

Lena laughs and reaches for her. For an instant, she hesitates, wondering if she should ask Mistress’s permission to touch, but moments like this are part of why she and Kara keep blanket rules to a minimum. Lena can’t take anything away from Kara’s dominance by touching without asking now. Naked hot tub aftercare was her mistress’s idea, after all.

So Lena puts her hands on the love of her life, feeling the familiar and ever-delightful firmness of Kara Zor-El’s muscular body. Kara’s smiling into her eyes, whispering _“Good girl,”_ and in moments Lena’s curled up in her mistress’s lap, wrapped safe in strong arms. The wet slide of skin on skin is as sensual as ever, but she’s truly too tired to get aroused again. No, all she wants is for Kara to hold her close, to kiss her head and caress her back, while they soak in the bone-deep heat of the hot tub.

Kara, as is increasingly her pattern, has thought of everything. Gentle washcloths at the tub's edge to wipe Lena down. Snacks, squares of Lena's favorite dark-as-night chocolate, water and electrolytes in bottles with straws through the lids. She doesn’t even have to move from Kara’s arms, doesn’t even need to lift her head from Kara’s chest. Kara brings each thing to her in turn.

“How are you feeling, Lena?”

“Blessed.” She finds Kara’s fingers and laces hers through them. “Loved. Grateful.”

“Like yourself?”

“Like myself.” Lena stretches cat-like in Kara’s arms. “Submissive and satisfied.” The brush of Kara’s nipples against her shoulder inspires a thought, though. She twists to face Kara and makes her best sultry eyes. “Satisfied, but not too tired to serve your pleasure, Mistress.”

“Not tonight,” Kara says, gentle but definite. “I got what I needed.”

“You sure?”

Kara smiles, presses a kiss to her sub’s forehead. “Rest. I've got all weekend to take what I want from you.”

Lena smiles back. “Kara, I can rest just as easily holding a vibrator.”

Kara smiles appreciatively, but shakes her head. “Lena Luthor, I _want_ to be hungry for you in the morning.”

Lena can’t argue with that. She lays her head against Kara’s collarbone and lets herself melt in her mistress’s arms. “Will you be rougher with me tomorrow?” She murmurs.

“Of course I will, baby,” Kara says, caressing her assurance up and down Lena’s back. “Of course I will.” She finds Lena’s hand underwater and laces their fingers together again, and presses a smiling kiss to the top of Lena’s head. “I’ll even make you beg.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
